Ice and Fire Should Have Never Mixed
by Crystal di Angelo
Summary: Ice melts when it gets close to fire.Fire splutters out when it meets with ice. To bind both in a body-don't even think about it.
1. I'm sorry, Lyanna

**Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you…**

**Eddard Stark-29**

**Catelyn Tully Stark-28**

**Daenerys Targaryen-21**

**Robb Stark-15**

**Jon Targaryen Snow-14**

**Brandon Stark-12**

**Sansa Stark-11**

**Arya Stark-10**

**Rickon Stark-6**

_**Ice and Fire should have never mixed**_

_Staring down at the blood that ran down her thighs, Lynne Stark didn't know what to think. It had been expected, after all. Her fourth miscarriage._

_**Ice and fire should have never mixed.**_

_Ice would extinguished the fire, and ice would melt in the presence of fire. To wrap two in a body-don't even think about it._

_But Lynne and Rhaeger had persisted anyway. Even their lovemaking seemed more painful than usual._

_If they succeeded to have a child, what will become of him or her? Will he die before his first name day? Of course, if they succeeded in ever having one._

_Despite all the odds, they decided on the names. A boy would be Jon Targaryen. A girl would be Ruby Targaryen._

'_Names as beautiful as their mother,' he had said._

_As her beloved lay dying on the battlefield, she lay in bed, screaming. They had finally succeeded, but at the cost of two lives._

_**Line break**_

**Daenerys**

A three headed dragon. A dragon must be three.

She saw an ice dragon in her dream, but when it snorted, it breathed fire. Ice and fire. It should have never been mixed, but it was mixed.

Beside the ice dragon she saw another dragon, rearing up on its hind legs, roaring. It breathed fire at the ice dragon, and the ice dragon roared in pain. She wanted to stop it, but they were too far away. Then she felt wings on her back. She flew, and saw herself in the lake.

She was a dragon.

The ice dragon was dying, slowly and painfully. The other dragon looked like it wanted to help, but every time he neared the melting ice dragon, the hot fire coming from its nostrils when it breathed only served to worsen matters. Daenerys realized with an abrupt horror that her presence would do the same thing.

Then she woke, cold and covered in sweat.

**Ned**

Watching Jon was like watching a ticking bomb.

And there was no way of knowing when it will blow up.

Ned had did his best not to create a deep bond with the boy, so that it will not affect him too much when Jon dies. But, after all, he had promised his sister.

_Promise me, Ned._

His sister's words had always haunted him.

What worried Ned was while Jon had been fine for the past thirteen years, he'd suddenly had a fit while playing with Arya. He was clutching his head and screaming so loudly that the whole of Winterfell had heard. With the help of the milk of the poppy, Jon had eventually fallen into a deep sleep. According to Jon, who had been fine after he woke up, the pain was like ice was piercing his body then the fire came next. Ned had asked Arya next, and Arya confirmed that Jon hadn't eaten anything wrong.

It could only mean one thing. The bomb was starting to end.

Suddenly he heard screams echoing in the courtyard. Sighing, he laid down his pen and descended the stairs.

Jon was on his knees on the castle steps, clutching his head and screaming as the world had ended. He looked up at Ned with pain filled eyes.

Lynne's eyes.

Though they were siblings, their eyes had a little difference that most people won't spot.

It was the shade and shape of their eyes. Ned's was a little lighter than Lynne's, while Lynne's irises were oval and Ned's were round.

Ned reached down an arm for Jon to take. Jon managed to stop screaming for the moment, and did his best to pull himself up. Then he fell back with a gasp of pain and Ned had to pull him up.

'Hurts…so…much.' Jon managed through gritted teeth.

Ned couldn't help a tear from falling. It was a sign that his closest link to his sister was going to be gone soon. And he couldn't help growing fond of the boy himself.

Jon's fingers clawed at his arm, and he could only imagine what Jon must be going through. Jon had been well composed, never showing pain unless it was too great for him to bear. And the extent of pain which can make his screams amount to this degree…

He was making his way to the maester's bedroom when Catelyn blocked his way. Jon had quietened down, perhaps with no strength left to scream. He could still feel the occasional twitching of Jon's body in his arms.

'Ned,' she said urgently, paying no heed to Jon in his arms. 'You must come quickly. Robb's-'

Ned cut her off. 'I'm taking Jon to Maester Luwin first.

He knew that he should not have done that. Jon had always been a touchy subject for Catelyn, and his actions now were sending a clear message to Catelyn. _Ned Stark is placing his bastard before his trueborn son._

Catelyn stared up at him, disbelieving. Then she stormed off, calling out from over her shoulder, 'I suppose you won't see to Robb's broken arm then.'

Ignoring the last prickly comment, Ned continued up the stairs to the maester's chamber. Jon groaned softly.

'Damn that ice,' he whispered into Ned's arms.

**Jon**

His whole body felt like it was on fire. His head hurt the most.

Then the fire was taken away abruptly and he was dumped into ice water. It felt cool at first, then it started to pierce his skin. He moaned, with no strength to resist anymore.

Everything was a blurry haze of pain. A blurred outline of Catelyn Stark was in front of him, then the next thing he knew his father was carrying him up the stairs. The pain didn't get any less but he still found comfort with his father.

Something was forced into his mouth, and he was spiraling away from the pain.

'_Don't worry, I'm coming!' a female dragon called out to him. He lay writhing on the ground, the pain restored to him. _

_The female dragon landed beside him and he screamed, as a warning for her to stay away. But she still inched closer._

'_Hush, my nephew. It's going to be all right. We are going to find a cure.' She promised, but for now they were empty._

_Another dragon stood by, wringing his claws._

'_Sorry,' he kept repeating. 'I'm so sorry.'_

'_It's not your fault.' The female dragon said, calm as still water. 'Ice and fire were never supposed to mix. He's melting of his own accord, and you only sped up the process. Making the suffering shorter. But it means we have less time to find the cure.'_

_She whispered the last part to Jon, so that she would not hurt the other dragon's feelings._

'_Help!' Jon cried. The pain was worse than before, and increasing steadily. 'Stop it, just make it stop!'_

'_The blood of the dragon does not beg for the end of life.' She said sternly. _

'_But…I'm a…wolf.' Jon managed through clenched teeth, or rather fangs. He looked down at his body with horror. He was a melting ice dragon._

'_You are. I do not know why, but you are.'_

_Jon had a look of confusion upon his face while he was spiraled away into darkness once more._

Across the sea, Daenerys Targaryen awoke.

**Ned**

Jon's fever was mounting day by day.

_Promise me, Ned._

'I'm sorry, Lynne. He's dying.'

Robb had been furious when Catelyn told him Ned didn't care about him, but when he learned the actual version he had forgiven his father and was demanding to see Jon-all in thirty seconds.

'Jon is very sick.' The maester had repeated stubbornly every time one of the Stark children tried to get into the chamber to see Jon. Catelyn didn't bother, but just to be polite, she dropped in one or two times.

Ned had never left Jon's side for more than an hour. He had a promise to keep.

_Promise me, Ned._

'Lynne…' he whispered into the air. He could feel Lynne's cheerful presence beside him in the room, and the scent of the lily perfume Lynne always liked to wear filled the room. Lynne had come for a look at her dying son.

I'm sorry…'


	2. Thank you, Ned

**This one is also for Verridisma (sorry if I spelled it wrong, I was writing from memory), who reviewed my story four times.**

**Robb**

'What do you mean that I cannot see Ned?' the king thundered. He had traveled a long way just to talk to Ned Stark, and now the brat was actually refusing to see him?

'Your Grace,' Robb managed. 'My brother is very sick and father refuses to leave his bedside.'

Robert looked confused for a moment. 'Brandon Stark? But I saw him playing in the courtyard and climbing tower roofs just this morning when I arrived! This is a lame excuse! Tell me the truth!'

'Your Grace, my brother _is _sick. Dying. But he's not Bran. I meant Jon Snow.'

'Jon Snow?' the king asked. 'Why would Ned grieve over a bastard?'

Robb shrugged. 'I do not know, Your Grace.'

'Very well,' the king said, annoyed. 'If he will not come down to see me, I'm going up to see him!'

And the king swept off before Robb could stop him.

**Robert**

Robert climbed the stairs, wheezing. His health had greatly depleted since the war. Finally, he reached the top and was about to fling the doors open when the maester stopped him.

'I'm sorry, Your Grace, but nobody is allowed there to prevent further infect-'

'Damn you and your infections!' Robert roared. He shoved past the spluttering maester and yanked the doors open.

Ned was sitting in front of the bed, dozing. Sitting by his son's bed like that must have worn him out. The boy's face was whiter than milk, and he was only breathing shallowly. He almost looked like a corpse.

For an instant the image of Lynne's corpse flashed before his eyes. He pushed it away.

'Lord Eddard Stark, I command you to wake up.'

Ned jumped up and toppled the chair over, almost tripping over it himself. 'Your Grace,' he bowed while straightening out his clothes. 'I did not expect to see you here.'

Robert waved away the maester. 'Come on, Ned, old friend, speak freely!' he hated all the courtesies and mock bows his court gave him.

Ned did not like that, and it was their favorite squabble. Ned opened his mouth to start their squabble again, but a low moan interrupted him.

Jon Snow was awake.

Robert stared at the boy in interest. He had never seen the boy at close range before.

The boy opened his eyes, and a shock rolled over the king.

Lynne's eyes.

True, they were hard to tell apart from Ned's eyes, but he could tell them apart at a glance. After all, Ned is his best friend and Lynne was his only love.

Jon raised a hand weakly, pressing it against his forehead.

'It hurts,' he said, barely more than a whisper.

Ned was already yelling for the maester, and fussing over Jon.

'Shh.' He brushed Jon's sweaty hair out of his face, forgetting all about Robert. 'I know…I know…'

'It hurts so much,' the boy's face looked strained. Must be from holding back the pain. Robert knew that expression. It was what he wore on his face when he was thinking of Lynne but was with Cersei. The mirror across the hall showed him just that. 'The fire…it's burning me.'

Fire. His enemy. Targaryens. It was now tormenting his best friend's son, bastard or no. It hurt to see the helpless look on Ned's face. But there was something else. Something that looked like a broken promise.

Maester Luwin hurried inside. 'More milk of the poppy, or dream-'

Ned said, 'Milk of the poppy,' the same time Jon said, 'Nothing,'

The maester shot them a queer look before fetching a cup of the milk of the poppy and placing it on the table. Then he left.

'Father,' the boy said. 'Don't hide it from me.'

Ned looked panic-stricken for a moment, then abruptly relaxed a little when Jon said, 'I know I'm dying.' But then the sorrowful look came back on his face again, and the 'broken promise' expression. Again, Robert wondered what secrets Ned was keeping from him.

But the thing that bothered him most were the eyes. Lynne's eyes.

Why did the bastard have Lynne's eyes instead of Ned's? It was a thousand in one chance that a child might inherit his aunt's eyes instead of his father's.

He couldn't be Lynne's bastard, could he?

Robert shook himself mentally. It couldn't be. Lynne loved _him_, and won't go crawling for some common peasant.

'Your Grace,'

Robert jumped. He had been so lost in the world of Lynne that he hadn't even noticed that the boy had saw him.

'I do not mean any offence, but I would like to rest. Could you be as kind as to leave?'

Robert gave the dying boy a sad smile before he exited the room.

_My Lynne…I'm losing the last chance to see your eyes again…_

**Lynne**

**I bet you weren't expecting this.**

Lynne looked at her son, a frown creasing her forehead. 'He will live, won't he?'

Rhaegar, one arm around her waist, looked down at her with his warm brown eyes. 'He won't. He lived to this day, and I will see that he will live to see the dragons return, and the dragons die. He will see the new age beginning, and new stars arising. My sister is a strong one, you know. She will find the cure.'

_She won't, _Lynne thought. Her gaze travelled to Jon on his bed, and smiled sadly. Her pride, her joy. He was doing a good job in hiding the pain, but Lynne knew it was still there. And wished that she could take it away. If she could bear it instead of him, she would. She wanted nothing more than her son to be happy and well. And alive.

_Ice and fire were never supposed to mixed._

_The Mother was right, _she thought bitterly. For all the Mother's warnings, they had done it anyway, and now Jon was suffering the consequences. She couldn't hold his hand, touch his face, comfort him, sing lullabies, or even tell him the reason why all of this was happening to him. What sort of mother was she?

_A dead mother._

Ned was holding Jon's hand for her, the other brushing away his hair, comforting him. As she watched, Ned started to sing the song that their mother had always sang to them. Ned had done all that for her. Ned had done enough.

**Eddard**

No one could imagine his surprise more when he heard his dead sister's voice whispering.

_Ned, you have done enough. I release you from your promise. Thank you, Ned._


	3. The Truth

**Review, please. Or maybe a follow? I feel like I'm getting invisible!**

**I thank:**

**WildDragon26221 for favoriting. **

**Verridesma( sorry if I spelled it wrong. Again, I am writing from memory) for reviewing.**

**Robert**

'Get the dragons out! And behead the girl!' Robert roared. He'd have enough of Targaryens. Especially after what a particular Targaryen had done to Lynna.

Rape. Lure. Blood.

None of the northmen responded to him. One said in a monotone: 'Lord Stark commanded us not to harm them.'

'I am the king.'

'And you are our lord's guest.'

Speechless, Robert grabbed his sword in a fury and marched out, wanting to let out his temper on the dummies. His sword even felt too heavy for him. The life of a king surely had taken its toil.

Who should he bump into on the stairs but Eddard Stark.

Of course he had to grab the chance.

'WHY DID YOU KEEP THE GIRL UNDER YOUR PROTECTION? YOU KNOW VERY WELL WHAT HER BROTHER DID TO LYNNA! IT DOESN'T MATTER TO YOU, BUT IT MATTERS TO ME! YOU MUST BE TOO EATEN UP BY GRIEF OVER LYNNA'S SO-'

Robert paused. He looked up into Ned's stricken eyes. Robert also felt a little strange. Why had he called Jon Snow Lynna's son? They had the same eyes, nothing more.

Nothing more?

Robert remembered the sound of Lynna's voice, her daring personality, her laughter, everything. And he compared it with Jon Snow.

Jon had the same personality as Lynna, as far as Robert knew. His smile was Lynna's. The way he fought-quiet and cautious-, the way he raced-intent and silent-, the way he concealed his emotions…

All of them were Lynna's.

'Tell me,' he said, grabbing Ned's sleeve. 'Have you ever fucked Lynna?'

Ned looked startled. 'Me? Never!'

Robert knew he was telling the truth.

'Is Jon Lynna's?'

'No.' the answer came a little too fast for Robert's liking.

'Tell me the truth. I command you as the king.'

'Um.' Ned's eyes darted around, looking for a rescue. 'Um.'

'The truth isn't "Um.". Now tell me.'

Ned's rescue came, in the form of Jon Snow.

'Father.'

Eyes bright with fever, he was holding on to the railing weakly, Daenerys Targaryen behind him, looking doubtfully over the scene they had run into. However, there was no trace of fear in her eyes.

'Jon, you shouldn't be out of bed. The infection-'

'I don't care about infections.'

Robert gave a mental chuckle. Exactly what Lynna would have said.

'Father, there's something I would like to ask you. Did the Mad King have bastards?'

Ned blinked. Robert too. They had expected many questions, but definitely not this one.

'Why, yes, I believe. But all dead. Because of…'

'Me.' Robert said. 'But I left one alive. Figured that it would mock the name.'

'Who?' the boy asked with such urgency in his tone that Robert couldn't help to be reminded of Lynna. Lynna spoke like that when she was in a hurry.

Robert gave him a puzzled look, but decided to tell him.

_For Lynna._

'George Greenwoods. He doesn't have the surname Snow because he was adopted by another family. 17 years old. Red hair, brown eyes.'

'Thanks!' Daenerys brightened up immediately. Robert frowned. He had not meant to make _her _happy. He did it for Lynna.

Jon managed a weak smile before suddenly collapsing to his knees. He heard Ned mutter, 'Not again,' before the screams of the boy filled the air.

'Help,' he begged between screams. 'HELP!'

Robert could only stand by and watch the maester give the boy the milk of the poppy. He fell into Ned's arms with one last moan before going still.

'What happened?' he asked.

Ned lifted the sleeping boy carefully. 'Another of his fits. He started having these a week before you arrived. Then the fever came.'

Robert stood by and allowed Ned to carry Jon back to his bedchamber. Daenerys followed with one last careful glance at him.

All of a sudden, Robert didn't feel like hitting dummies anymore.

George

Everyone in the castle was intrigued by Jon Snow's sudden illness. Gods, he had even seen Jon a day before he was taken sick, and he was perfectly healthy then. Then the screams had started.

Whenever there were screams, the servants never rushed out for a look.

Ghosts, they say. The ghosts were inflicting these on the poor boy and whoever came near would fall victim as well.

Of course, there were rumors. Some say Lady Catelyn poisoned him. Some say that the gods are trying to kill all the bastards, and Jon Snow was just for starters. Some went as farfetched as saying that the Others and the children have started battle and Jon Snow gotten involved, ending up being cursed by one or the other.

George Greenwood had taken no part in the gossiping. He owed the Starks that much, at least. If not for the Starks, he would have died on the kingsroad with his family.

But he couldn't help formulating guesses of his own in his head.

Instinct told him that it had something to do with the deceased Lynna Stark.

That morning, dragons had come. It frightened him, but he felt a queer feeling stirring in his gut, like the dragons were family. He wanted nothing more to reach out and touch them, but decided against it. He would play his part as a squire better with both hands intact.

Then the screams had started again.

This time, they said that the dragons had done this. George wasn't too surprised. He felt that he had knew it all the time, only it was buried deep within his mind, unavailable for using until a reminder came.

_What's happening to me?_ He couldn't help but think in panic.

He couldn't help but get more bewildered when the Dragon Queen burst into his room, half carrying a weak Jon Snow.

'Are you George Greenwood?' she demanded.

'Yes. But-'

'You are seventeen?'

'Yes, why-'

'You were adopted?'

George was getting more and more confused by the moment. 'Yes, how-'

'Jon, you hear that? He's the one!' the queen laughed. Jon managed a small smile before pushing himself off her and leaning against the wall.

_**In case any of you are wondering, the milk of the poppy was just a small dose, enough for a few minutes. A few minutes is enough for the fit to pass. Well, sometimes. Sometimes it lasts longer.**_

'George, if I told you that you are a dragon, would you believe it?' Jon asked.

George opened his mouth to say, 'No,' but then he felt otherwise. He felt that it was the truth. An unbelievable truth, but still the truth.

'Yes,' came out instead.

All of a sudden Jon's face contorted, and he said, 'Dany,' through clenched teeth. The dragon queen quickly took out a bottle and uncorked it, feeding Jon the contents. Jon slumped to the floor.

'Sorry about that, George. But something is happening to him, and we don't know why. I was hoping you would help us with that. We need to find the cure.'

George couldn't believe his ears. Him? He was just a squire. What right did he have to work with the Mother of Dragons and Lord Eddard Stark's son, bastard he may be, above hundreds of better qualified candidates? Seven hells, they barely knew him!

'Why me? You could have gotten Robb Stark, or Brandon Stark, even Arya Stark, but why me?'

Queen Daenerys Targaryen looked straight at him.

'Because you are the blood of the dragon. And only dragons can succeed in this. For the third dragon.'

**Arya**

'Mother, I want to see Jon!' she whined. Robb and Bran were nodding in agreement while Sansa looked on stiffly. But deep down, Arya knew that Sansa wanted to go too. Rickon was nodding vigorously in his crib but Arya doubted that he knew what he was agreeing to.

'No. He's a bastard, and is of no importance.'

'He's my brother!' Arya, Bran and Robb practically shouted.

'No. He is still a bastard, and testimony of the loss of your father's honor.'

'Damn that honor!' Arya yelled.

The whole room fell silent.

'What did you say?' her mother asked in a dangerously soft voice.

'You know very well that honor is _very _important to a man, especially to your father. Honor found a place among the Tully words, "Family. Duty. _Honor_.". Are you suggesting that your father throw his honor away for a mere bastard?'

'You hate Jon.' Arya said sullenly.

Catelyn straightened. 'Perhaps I should. Maybe I did. But I allowed him houseroom, and food to eat. I even allowed him a chamber of his own. I allowed the maester to tend to him. But I will _not _allow my children to grieve over a _bastard _that meant the loss of your father's honor.'

It went deeper than honor, Arya knew. It went into the issue of her father having someone else other than her mother. Arya didn't mind so much, though. If her father didn't have someone else, there was no way someone would be mussing up her hair and calling her 'little sister'.

She wished that she could see Jon. Even if it meant that she would have to get past the three dragons in the courtyard and King Robert. She knew that Jon would do it for her.

So she would. With or without mother's consent.

_**Line break**_

_**11.00p.m.**_

Arya climbed over the body of the guard. She had attacked him from the right and tied him up with her rope before he could even make a sound. She felt really proud of herself. _Swift as a deer._

She climbed the stairs, which spiraled up and up and up. She was already dizzy when she finally reached the door. She stayed there a moment to let the dizziness pass, and was about to open the door when she heard voices. She shrunk into the shadows, curious about what they could be saying in the dead of the night.

'You are the blood of the dragon. I know it.' Said a female voice. Arya pressed her ear to the door, straining to hear more. The next voice was soft, but she recognized it as Jon's.

'You have no proof.'

'I-'

'Come on in, little sister.' She heard Jon call. She froze.

Was there any chance of creeping out, now that Jon and the other woman knew? Or was it better to go in? Well, it isn't like Jon would report her to her father anyway. She opened the door.

And saw Lord Eddard Stark smiling at her beside Jon's bed.

'I'm sorry, father, I will go to bed now, if you want. I only wanted to see Jon, and mother won't let me. I promise, I'll be a good girl if you don't tell mother. I will even sing Sansa's stupid songs if you want.' Arya was rambling by now, desperately trying to get herself out of the mess she had got herself into.

'Come on, little sis, when did we ever say anything about telling Lady Catelyn?' Jon asked. He looked paler and thinner than Arya last saw him, but the grin was still the same. Arya grinned back at him and moved over to sit on his lap. Jon felt warmer than he should be, and all of a sudden he was colder than a corpse. The next minute it felt like she was sitting on hot coals.

'Ouch!' she yelped, jumping off. Queen Daenerys shot her a queer look while her father looked at Jon worriedly. She turned to Jon, hoping that she hadn't hurt his feelings.

Jon was clutching onto the bed sheets so hard that his knuckles were white. Sweat beaded his forehead.

'No…milk…will pass…' he ground out. Father pulled Jon into a hug while Arya held his hand, hoping that it will make the pain better. A few minutes later, Jon slumped and they released him. Jon fell back into his bed, breathing heavily.

'These are getting more and more frequent. We'd like your opinion on how we should find a cure, if there is even one.' Queen Daenerys told Arya.

'Dany!' Jon said. 'She doesn't need to know-'

'That you're dying? She needs to know. She would find out anyway.'

All of a sudden Arya couldn't breathe. It couldn't be, it just wasn't right, why in seven hells would Jon be dying? He was healthy, and had done nothing to get himself ill. Maester Luwin could tend to him, and Jon would be right as rain in a few days. It wasn't right. What wrong had Jon done? She wanted to scream at the Stranger, yell at him. Jon will _not _die. She wanted someone to muss up her hair and call her little sister when she was twenty. She wanted that someone to be Jon Snow, not Robb or Sansa Stark. Sansa won't do that anyway.

'Arya,' her father said gently. 'It's true. But Queen Daenerys shouldn't have told you. Jon wanted to drop hints, not letting the truth being rammed straight into you. But…well, Queen Daenerys begs to differ.'

'Just Dany would be enough, Lord Stark.'

'As you wish, Queen Daenerys.'

The queen laughed, but then the mood became somber. 'You were going to tell us something about the blood of the dragons, Lord Eddard. Why not speak now?'

Her father glanced at Arya. 'Well…'

'Another head won't hurt. Come on. Arya has the right to know, and so does Jon.'

Ned sighed. 'Well…it started with the war.'

_The sound of metal kissing, the blood, the screams._

_War._

_Ned had told Lynna not to come, but she insisted that she would. Ned had absolutely no control over Lynna at all, so she had come. And he regretted it._

_Lynna had met Rhaegar. They fell in love, and when Rhaegar and Lynna wasn't busy entertaining their parents, they snuck off together. To cuddle, talk, sometimes kissing. On the second moon, Rhaegar had taken Lynna's maidenhood._

_Ned knew all about it, but he didn't say anything. Even if he confronted Lynna about it, she wouldn't stop seeing Rhaegar anyway. His sister was even more stubborn than a mule._

_Then it had happened._

_Rhaegar and Lynna had a child._

_Of course, ice and fire should never have mixed. Lynna miscarriaged, and they tried again. Ned could never understand their longing for a child._

_Until that fateful day._

_Lynna's child was finally stable and she did her best to hide her radiant smile. Of course, Ned noticed, but he still didn't say anything._

_But he couldn't keep up his mask of ignorance anymore when Lynna fell down the stairs on the seventh moon._

_She screamed in pain, and did her best to hide the blood running down her thighs._

'_You know.' She had said, staring into Ned's eyes as he shouted for her to be brought to the birthing chamber and a midwife to be summoned._

_Ned still hadn't said anything. He simply nodded._

_Then the screams came. Lynna's nails dug into his arm, but he remained silent. Lynna clawed at the sheets, and he gave her his hand to hold. And he remained silent._

_The head came, and the midwife urged Lynna to continued pushing. The midwife talked, trying to distract Lynna from her pain. She told Lynna her name, Wylla, and her age. Her name-day. Her siblings, her life. And Lynna continued screaming. Ned still remained silent._

_The baby was struggling to come out too. His tiny chest rose and fell. And the legs remained in Lynna's womb. And still, Ned said nothing as Lynna screamed and pushed._

_The room now smelled of blood and roses. Lynna's blood._

_Finally, the baby was out._

'_Jon.' She breathed. 'Jon.'_

_Then her eyes became wild. 'Ned, Jon could be murdered by Robert Baratheon! He's a Targaryen! And Rhaegar won't be there to protect his son! I won't be there either! Both of us will be dead, I can feel it!' She gripped Ned's arm in a vice-like grip. 'Please, Ned, promise me.' Tears were starting to fall. 'Promise me that you will take care of Jon. Promise me, Ned.'_

_Ned spoke for the first time. 'I promise.'_

'_I want to hold Jon.' Her voice was barely a whisper now. Ned placed the babe in her arms, fighting to stop the tears of his own fall. The midwife left, not wanting to interrupt such a sensitive moment. _

'_Jon…' she murmured. Closing her eyes, she allowed one small smile to grace her lips before slumping back on the pillows, lifeless. _

_Jon Targaryen started to wail, and Ned Stark wept along with him._


	4. The curse of the Hand

**George**

_I am the second dragon. Queen Daenerys asked for me to join her. We are going on a suicide quest to try and find a cure for Jon Snow, the last dragon. I decided that I would go. Goodbye, mom, dad._

_Queen Daenerys told me I am her half brother, and a Targaryen bastard. We are going to help Jon Snow find a cure. He's important. Goodbye, mom, dad._

_I am a Targaryen bastard, and I am leaving to help Queen Daenerys cure Jon Snow and reclaim the Iron Throne. Goodbye, mom, dad._

No matter how many versions George thought up, one thing remained the same.

_Goodbye, mom, dad._

He really wanted to go with her, and he felt like it was his destiny. Yet he had no idea how to break the news to his mother and father.

'Hey, George, dearie, you look troubled. What's up?'

George gulped. Here it comes.

'Mom, actually I'm a bastard of Aegon the Fifth and a dragon. Queen Daenerys wants me to go with her.'

Mom looked thunderstruck for a minute. George immediately wished that he hadn't said it so bluntly.

Then she sat down on his bed, sighing. 'You know.'

That took George by surprise. 'You knew?'

Mom sighed again. 'Of course. Actually, that was the reason we first took you in. Robert Baratheon was killing bastards of the Mad King everywhere, and we supposed that he won't let you live. So we passed you off as a northern bastard, with the surname Snow instead of Stone like it was supposed to be. Then we decided that the disguise wasn't thick enough, and adopted you, changing your surname to Greenwood. Apparently that wasn't enough. How did they find you?'

George shrugged.

'Well, we can't stop you from going. It's your destiny. We always knew that you would leave one day, for the Iron Throne, revenge or something else.'

'Oh.' Was all he could say. 'I'm leaving this afternoon, if Jon Snow is strong enough.'

'Jon Snow?' mom said in bewilderment. 'What does all of this have to do with him?'

'I don't know. Queen Daenerys seems to have a special connection with him.'

Mom gave a chortle. 'Rumors will be spreading soon if they don't lie and say they are family. But even siblings fuck each other…'

'Mom!'

'Right, dear. Have you packed?'

'Yes.'

'Good. Don't forget to send letters. And do not behave rudely. She's a queen, mind you. And though Jon Snow is a bastard, he is still of high upbringing. Don't forget to pray, and blah blah blah blah…'

The speech was repeated the next afternoon. George was standing in the courtyard, with King Robert gazing down sulkily from his chamber window. The dragons were throwing their heads and snorting fire. Queen Daenerys was standing in front of Drogon, smirking at the banter he was receiving. Jon Snow was already mounted on Rhaegal, resting his cheek casually on his arm. Both of them grinned down at him, the only Targaryen who haven't mounted yet. George scowled at them. Even the dragons seemed to be mocking him. The dragon that had chosen him, Viserion, snorted at every sentence.

The dragons had chosen them when they came into the courtyard. Rhaegal sped over to Jon and snorted, then reached down to lick Jon's hand. Or arm. The dragon's tongue was _massive_. Queen Daenerys was immediately whisked off by Drogon's claws. Which left him Viserion, who had swatted him playfully with its tail as soon as he came within swatting distance.

Jon saved him after ten minutes. 'Lady Lavender, we thank you for coming to bid us farewell. We must be off. We thank you for allowing your son to go, which we can see is very precious to you judging from your…uh…_lecture_.'

It was then they left, mom continuing to shout out instructions.

* * *

**Jon**

He felt almost fully healed, clutching onto Rhaegal and letting the wind blow his dark tresses. Only that there was always a dull throbbing in his head to remind him. His temperature hasn't dropped, and Maester Luwin had given them a large supply of the milk of the poppy to bring.

After a long discussion with Queen Daenerys, Arya and his father, no, uncle last night, it was decided that they first go to the place where Queen Daenerys had seen the dragon bones. Queen Daenerys said that though it was dead, there might be some substance that they can extract from it. They needed every little chance.

_Well, I need it. They don't. _Jon thought miserably.

The dragons flew faster than he expected. Soon, they were already crossing the sea.

His head was giving a warning, increasing the throbbing gradually. He hoped that it won't act up so quickly. He needed to be conscious for what's coming next. He had a feeling that a nasty surprise would be waiting for them, and they won't be having mercy.

* * *

**Eddard**

'Due to recent occurrences, I have thought long and hard. Finally, I have decided to forgive you and proclaim you Hand of the King as I intended earlier. Rise, Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Hand of the King.'

Ned rose, confused. What recent occurrences was Robert Baratheon referring to?

He wanted to ask the king about it, but Robert left the hall before Ned had fully risen.

_He's avoiding me._

Ned was utterly bemused. What did the king know?

King Robert had not asked Ned about the Hand of the King matter, and it came as a big surprise. But not as big as Robert's cold attitude.

He had only just left the hall when Catelyn rushed over.

'Did you see the king's face just now? He looked like there was rain pouring all over him! Oh, Ned, did you say anything to displease him? What did he do just now?'

Ned gently pried his lady wife away from him. 'Calm down, Cat. He made me the Hand of the King. Don't ask me why. And about Jon-'

Catelyn's face grew cold. 'Jon, Jon, _Jon_. For Mother's sake, he's a Snow! A bastard! And you care more for him even more than your trueborn son!' Catelyn was screaming now. 'AND HE WAS FINE ENOUGH TO FLY OFF ON THAT STUPID DRAGON! WHILE ROBB'S DYING BECAUSE OF SOME DAMNED INFLAMATION! EDDARD STARK, YOU ARE SUCH A _JERK_!'

Ned never saw the slap coming. One second he was standing there, horrorstruck by the news of Robb, and the next Catelyn was storming away, a red mark on his face.

'Wow. She has quite a temper. Though it's nothing compared to Cersei's. Well done, Ned.' Came the king's voice drily from behind a pillar. He stepped into Ned's view.

'Your Grace.' Ned knelt hurriedly. He did not look much of a Hand, a slap mark on his face and tousled hair thanks to Catelyn's shouting. _Just kidding, it was the wind._

Then he looked up at the king, seeing him in close view for the first time in days. The king had red eyes and Ned could still see traces where he supposed that would be tear tracks that were hastily wiped but not enough to cover it completely.

'Your Grace?'

Robert smiled unpleasantly. Ned gulped. What had his friend become?

'It all comes down to Lynna, isn't it? It all comes down to her. Your disagreement with your lady wife, and your, uh, bastard's sudden illness, those stupid dragons coming back to life-it all comes down to her. Ned, Ned, Ned.' He said, shaking his head. 'You could have told me earlier. You could have told me. YOU COULD HAVE TOLD ME LYNNA WAS NEVER DEAD!'

'What?' Ned had a bad feeling that he knew what the king knew.

'Lynna was never dead.' He repeated. 'She lives on. In her son.'

Ned's worst believes were confirmed. He turned, wanting to send a raven, wanting to warn his nephew. But guards surrounded him, and King Robert spoke in a cold voice that scarily suited him. 'Well done, Eddard Stark. You never thought to check outside the door when you wanted to speak the truth. What a good lord of Winterfell you are. But no matter. I'm changing that lord of Winterfell to someone else. And I will hunt the last Targaryen down. You are going to serve with me as the Hand of the King. You will bear witness to the tears of the people whom has suffered under the hand of the Mad King. You will be powerless to help your nephew. You will be stuck at King's Landing being watched until I can find a good enough charge to imprison you.' Robert smiled, with a cruel glint in his eyes.

Ned's breath caught in his throat. 'Your Grace, you were never-'

'The person I had become was made when I learned that my lover had fucked and had a secret marriage with my enemy.'

_**Okay, this reminds me a lot of Severus Snape in Harry Potter.**_

* * *

**Daenerys**

Rhaegal blew as much fire as he dared, without scorching those that were on their side. Men were emerging everywhere, wearing the crowned stag on their cloaks. George was doing his best not to fall off Viserion as he reared and stomped and snorted at anything that got close. Daenerys soared the skies on Drogon's back. Drogon blew fire from the air at their enemies. For her half brother and nephew's sake, Dany hoped that Drogon had good aim. Jon was clinging tightly to Rhaegal, looking like his head might split, but Dany can't get near enough to him. Even if she could, she doubted that it would be wise to give him the milk of the poppy. Sleeping during a battle wasn't a good idea. Jon could fall off Rhaegal and get trampled.

The men were coming out from seemingly everywhere. For one they set on fire, another ten took his place. Dany finally had the chance to witness the full power of King's Landing. But she wasn't enjoying the spectacular sight, because the full power of King's Landing was aimed at _them. _

Her mind was reeling. Who gave them away? They had told no one of their destination, and discussed during midnight. Who would have overheard them?

Of course, there was always the possibility that she would be betrayed.

_Once for gold and once for love._

Dany hoped that George won't do that. He was the second dragon, a Targaryen. The last Targaryens were supposed to stick together. They weren't supposed to _betray _each other. Of course, George wasn't the sole suspect. There was Arya Stark. But she had made it clear from her actions that she loved Jon dearly and won't do anything to deliberately harm him. There was Eddard Stark too, but Jon's mom was his sister. His beloved sister. Lord Stark had made it clear that he cherished Jon Snow above anything else. There was no one else in the chamber, and no one could be likely enough. Jon Snow won't tell the king; at least she was sure of that. This was his life, and he had no reason not to save it.

_Once for gold and once for love._

_If I look back I am lost._

'Don't look back, Daenerys Stormborn,' she told herself sternly. She must put down her suspicions for once, and stick with them. The remaining dragons must stick together. Work together.

An earsplitting roar came from across the field. Dany looked, and saw a spear catch Rhaegal in the leg. All of them seemed to be ignoring the other two dragons, instead aiming for Rhaegal, and Rhaegal only. Jon had long abandoned the attempt to hold on to Rhaegal. He was clutching his head, mouth slightly open in a soundless scream. George was trying to steer Viserion to help, but he had no idea on taming or controlling a dragon and only made Viserion snort, which Dany suspected was his way of laughing.

Across the field, Rhaegal spread his wings and flew, but slowly, taking care that Jon won't fall off his back. But that slowness was all they needed. The spears caught Rhaegal in the belly, wings and legs. Dany could only watch in horror as Rhaegal fell, seemingly in slow motion. He hit the earth with an earsplitting thud (_**I really pity their poor ears**_), and the men swarmed the fallen dragon. Dany lost sight of Jon in the swarm of men.

Dany may have laughed at George, but in truth, she herself also had absolutely no idea on how to control a dragon either. Dragons were not made to be controlled.

Rhaegal…

The dragon on the ground never moved. Dany's heart plummeted. The men marched away, Jon's black hair distinctly visible among them.

Drogon and Viserion roared at the same time, mourning their lost brother.


	5. In the memory of Lyanna Stark

**Are those 300 views accidental or…**

**Because I am seeing a big number of views and only a few reviews. Guys, did you just lose your keyboard?**

**This one is for Verridissima. (Did I spell it wrong again?)**

* * *

**Robert**

'Don't forget, the boy is required alive.' He reminded his general.

'How can we forget Your Grace's orders?' the captain said. 'It has been relayed to every single soldier, and we made them repeat it thrice.'

'Good. Very good.' Robert dismissed the general. He himself could not explain why he wanted Jon Snow alive, but he supposed it was for Lynna. Lynna who betrayed him and married his enemy secretly.

He laughed bitterly. He never got Lynna, and got Cersei instead. So his reward for slaying the dragon prince was marrying someone he didn't like. What a fair world.

Jon Snow was on his way to the grave, but Robert would like to look at Lynna's son for every day and every minute he could. A reminder about Lynna would serve. The boy has Lynna's eyes, laugh, smile, attitude…

In short, he wanted every connection to Lynna he could manage. Every connection to the woman who betrayed him and loved his enemy.

He grimaced mentally. That's what love can do.

* * *

**Eddard**

He paced the Hand's study restlessly, worrying for his nephew. King Robert had sent almost the full force of his kingdom against three dragons, a woman and two boys. Dragons are hard to kill, it's a fact, but they are not impossible to kill. He could only stare out his window at the godswood, praying silently.

Then he saw the army marching into the yard.

Ned scarcely dared to breathe. They had returned, but there was no sign of the queen, or the boys. Ned didn't know whether that was good or bad. They could have returned triumphantly, with their enemies dead, or they had simply failed to capture them.

He hoped that it was the latter. But with so many men that had returned…

King Robert strode out to meet them. He exchanged a few words with the general, and a smile passed his face. Ned gulped. What could make the king happy now certainly wasn't good news.

Then the general laid a sack on the ground. Something alive seemed to be in it. Ned's breath caught in his throat.

_No, no, no…_

The king undid the knot carefully, and turned the sack upside down. Jon Snow sprawled onto the floor. Ned's heart almost stopped dead at the sight of him. The boy was so pale that he could have lived up to his name Snow.

But Jon certainly hasn't lost his attitude.

'What did you take me here for?' he demanded. 'We are not plotting to harm your kingdom in any way, so don't waste your troops! Six thousand men lay dead, corpses still burning. So why can't you just let us on our way? You know that there are always threats from House Greyjoy, so why don't use your troops on them? At least your soldiers won't die for nothing!' Jon finally remembered his courtesies and hastily added. 'Your Grace.'

Ned thought he saw a small smile cross Robert's face. He realized that he himself was smiling too. Exactly like Lynna. If Lynna was alive, she would have urged Jon on and backed him up, countering every reason the king threw their way.

Pity that one was dead and the other dying.

'Take the boy to the guest chamber,' Robert commanded. 'Assign him servants, and send for a tailor. Always have a dose of the milk of the poppy ready for him. Dismissed.'

Ned saw the soldiers exchanging suspicious glances, but they left to carry out the king's queer orders.

The king looked up, seeing Ned looking out from the window. Robert smiled and waved.

'Enjoying your time up there?' he hollered. 'Your beloved nephew's here now! Did you see him? I _captured _him!' The king grinned again, quite pleased with himself. Then he turned and strode back towards the castle, leaving Ned alone and miserable, wondering about the fate of Lynna's son.

* * *

**George**

'It's our entire fault that Jon's gone now! They will kill him, they will! And we can do nothing without him! We need _three _ dragons, George, three! And now that Jon's gone, and you're the only bastard they left alive, and I'm the last trueborn daughter…'

George sighed mentally. Queen Daenerys Stormborn could be more skilled at ranting than his mother. She had started since the battle and had not stopped since.

They were tending to Rhaegal, who was knocked unconscious, but thankfully not dead. They had almost left him that morning, thinking him dead, but Viserion and Drogon refused to budge from their brother's side. It was then they discovered all hope was not lost.

George had suggested that they learn to control their dragons better first, so that history will not repeat itself, but Queen Daenerys insisted on rescuing the last dragon first.

'He may not be dead yet,' she had insisted. 'They may use him as a bargaining chip. It's our duty to rescue him as soon as possible.'

George doubted that they could rescue Jon with three dragons they had absolutely no idea how to control.

But Queen Daenerys insisted, and George could only go on with her plan. After all, mother had said, 'Always listen to your queen.'

So he had listened. And went along with her mad plan.

Queen Daenerys was going to creep up to the castle in the middle of the night, grab Jon, and then escape on the dragons. George could see many faults in her plan, and had even tried pointing them out, but Queen Daenerys was mad for power and nothing George said could stop her.

By then, George was seriously doubting his choice to go along with them. Jon was rational enough, but now that Jon wasn't there and Queen Daenerys was acting strangely and without reason. George could not fathom why. If the queen could come this far, why is it that she had lost her rational part then?

George suspected that something was wrong. After all, when he first held a discussion with the queen about where they should go first, she had made clever suggestions and impressed both George and Jon. Daenerys had no reason to feign an act either. Even if she was feigning then, she must have enough brains to put up such an act.

No…something was wrong with the queen, and not of her own will.

* * *

**Jon**

His head hurt a lot, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself not to wake anyone. He made it out of his bed, and got over to the table where a cup of the milk of the poppy lay. Every step felt like pure torture, but a gulp of the milk made it feel like a dull throbbing. Jon went back to his bed and waited for the milk-induced sleep to settle in. He hoped there won't be dreams to trouble him that night.

He dreamed.

All of a sudden, he was the ice dragon again, and all the pain rushed back, ten times as worse as before. He screamed, not able to hold it in any longer.

His vision was a blur of pain, but he could distinctly make out another dragon being hit by a stag. Once, twice, thrice, and she went down. Then the dragon rose again, but the stag said, 'Sit!' sharply, and the dragon sat down at once. Another dragon was beside the first dragon, and he was trying to make her get up, pleading and begging, but the she-dragon would not budge. The second dragon looked over to Jon for help, but Jon could do nothing, being in the state he was now.

Then all of a sudden a torch was burning near him, quickening his melting. Jon tried to inch away, but the mysterious bearer only held it closer to his skin. Jon screamed, while black dots appeared in his vision.

Then all of the ice melted away.

It was then Jon lurched awake, hand scrambling for another dose of the milk of the poppy. His head pounded like it had never been before, and he could see nothing thanks to the pain.

He fell asleep again.

He missed the shouting, and the fire burning through the courtyard. He missed the king's shouts for water. He slept through the roaring of the dragons. He slept through the death of Prince Joffrey the heir to the Iron Throne.

When he woke up the next day, everyone in the castle was wearing black. Jon had wondered whether the whole castle had suddenly decided to join the Night's Watch, until the maester had told him what happened.

Jon was excluded from the mourning, but he heard the wails of the women and children all the same. It was until noon that one thing really made his day.

Lord Eddard Stark was finally allowed to visit him.

'Father-I meant Uncle.' Jon stumbled over his words. He still wasn't accustomed to calling him 'Uncle'. Jon supposed that the habit would never wear off.

Ned chuckled. 'You can still call me father, if you like. After all, you will need the practice for others.'

Jon nodded, and the two of them sat in awkward silence, not really knowing what to say.

'You know,' Ned began somewhat awkwardly. 'You look a lot like your mom.'

Now that was a topic that Jon would be interested in. 'How?'

'Well…' Ned said, with a far-off look in his eyes. 'You have her eyes. Hers was darker than mine. Not so big a difference, but Robert still noticed it anyway.'

'Wait a minute, the king knows?'

Ned laughed bitterly. 'We never thought to check outside the door after we brought Arya in.'

'Uh…oops?'

Ned laughed again, but more pleasantly. 'Your answer is exactly what Lynna would have said.'

Jon couldn't help but grin.

Ned smiled. 'Your grin too.'

'Wha-'

'And that look of bewilderment is exactly the same.'

Jon smiled through his tears. 'I wish I knew her. She sounds fun.'

Ned let a tear fall. 'She looks like that too when she's remembering our dead parents.'

The afternoon trickled past, with the father and son laughing and crying, in the memory of Lynna Stark.

* * *

**Father/son moment. I know, uncle. But Jon's raised as his son, and their feelings won't change just because of a single night.**


	6. Kill the dragons

**Daenerys**

_I shouldn't have done that. What's happening to me?_

Dany was panicking. Rhaegal wasn't in any fit state to be in a second battle, but she had dragged him along anyway. Now said dragon was currently sick, and she had absolutely no idea how to treat him.

As for the other two dragons, they got away with numerous wounds, Drogon having suffered the worst. Dany suspected that George had stolen a few hours to give Viserion some training, because Viserion was the luckiest of the three dragons. He got away with nothing more than a deep wound caused by a lucky spear throw, a cut across his neck and a few scrapes. Not that she was complaining, of course. In fact, she was going to actually _thank _George for disobeying her.

Had her wits taken leave of her? She must be crazy to just go into battle like that. Seven hells, they haven't even _seen _Jon.

They had just been wasting their time. And jeopardizing her beloved dragons' health.

She was utterly lost now. Dany had only a hazy memory of how she had insisted that they go to battle. It felt like she was in a dream then.

Only it wasn't a dream, even though Dany wished that it was only a dream.

_What's happening to me? I can't even __**think**__ rationally! _

Dany was scared. She had no one to reassure her, with George running back and forth between the medicine quarters and the dragons. Jon wasn't there for some clever jape or joke. Viserion wasn't there with his comforting roar, nor was Drogon with his occasional breath of flame that tickled her neck. And Rhaegal…

It hurt to even think about him. It was up this day and down the other. Not even George, her unofficial dragon healer could put a rough definition to his condition. Dany had long since given up hope.

She could feel tears creeping out of her eyes.

_The blood of the dragon does not weep ._She told herself sternly.

But she had cried anyway.

* * *

**Rhaegar/Rhaegal**

Rhaegar left the body of the dragon and floated into the air, uncertain of where he should go. Mayhaps he could visit his son, or try to comfort his niece. He certainly could not do anything more for the dragon he could enter and leave at will. Lyanna was, uh, hanging out with Lady Stark. More like playing pranks on her and scaring her half to death. They could move things, and make themselves heard when they want to, but they can never ever be seen by someone other than their own kind. Well, except the Others. They had discovered that when Lyanna had one of her adventurous fits and dragged him into it. They had barely managed to get away. Rhaegar had made Lyanna swear never to do that again.

Of course, she had to stir up some other kind of trouble. Rhaegar had given up on trying to control her long ago. Actually, the part he loved most of Lyanna was the wild part. But he definitely wasn't going to tell her. That would only make her worse.

Rhaegar aimlessly drifted up to the window of a nearby house. He was bored. Lyanna would rage on for hours if he didn't collect her before visiting their son. If he got her before going, there won't be enough time before night falls and they would have to retreat to the Otherworld and stay there until morning comes. Then they would be capitulated into the Upper world but there's no way of telling where they would end up. If they were lucky, they wouldn't be so far away from each other and where they wanted to go.

Of course, it wasn't like this every day. It would be too tiresome. But just their luck that tomorrow was the night of the full moon.

Rhaegar was kicked out of his daydreaming by a voice.

'…are you sure that this is necessary? Jon Snow may die by himself for all we know.'

Rhaegar froze.

Another voice responded, high and sweet, practically dripping with honey. 'But they are on their way to find an antidote. They may be dim, but the cure is actually right under their nose. Starks are hard to kill, and Snows even harder. The boy may hang on long enough for them to figure it out. And there's no way of removing the cure…'

Rhaegar hardly dared to breathe, forgetting for a moment that they couldn't hear him. _There's a cure, there's a cure, there's hope for Jon! Lyanna is going to be so happy…Then what's all the business with killing my son?_

'My lady, it still won't be necessary. Jon Snow is not going to oppose you, he doesn't even know you!'

'The blood of the dragon runs in him.'

'But he will always be direwolf at heart.' The other voice, as of a man, countered.

'Hmmm, it's true…'

Rhaegar tried a peek in the window, but it was covered by blinds. Sighing in frustration, he strained to hear more.'

'…more prudent to finish him off.'

'My lady-'

'Why is it that you care for this boy so much? Dare I say that you love him? Did you not hate him?'

The man spluttered, 'My lady, I-I only meant that-'

'Silence!' the lady spat.

Silence reigned, and a very uncomfortable moment for Rhaegar. He knew that he must flee quickly to Jon, to warn him, but all the same he wanted to stay there, in case he missed something important. Agonizing moments passed, until the man spoke again.

'May I take leave?'

'You may.' The lady responded, voice icy cold.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Rhaegar shot off towards Winterfell.

* * *

**Catelyn**

She was growing accustomed to the weird occurrences, but when her clothes started to fly in the air, she decided that it was time to put a stop to it.

'Whoever's doing this, please stop it! I'm growing tired of you! You're just messing with my life and scaring me half to death!' Catelyn yelled. She wasn't in a good mood. Her moon's blood was on, her husband taken away, her son's leg broken, her, ahem, husband's bastard taking away all of Ned's attention etc. etc.

She was startled to hear a faint laugh.

Bewildered, Catelyn took a cautious step forward.

Then the form of a young woman flickered on in front of her. When she raised her head, Catelyn Tully Stark came face to face with her best friend and sister in law.

Lyanna Stark.

'You used to like it when I pulled my pranks on you.'

There was no doubt now.

'Lyanna!' Catelyn rushed forward and tried to pull her into a hug, but instead plunged into thin air. Confused, she turned back to see Lyanna looking back at her with an expression of bewilderment.

'You can see me?'

'Are you alive?'

They asked at the same time.

Lyanna frowned before coming up with an answer. 'I'm dead. But…unless you are one of those krens…'

'What?'

'Krens.' Lyanna repeated. 'They can see ghosts that can't pass on when they reach a certain age.'

'You haven't passed on?'

'No. I have a so-I mean something to attend to.'

The slip didn't go missed by Catelyn. 'Your son, you said. Who? Whose?'

Lyanna turned red. Just then, another ghost crashed through the window.

'Lyanna! Our son's in trouble, people are plotting to kill him, we have to hurry, tell your brother-'

'Rhaegar.' There was warning in Lyanna's tone. It hurt to think that Lyanna stopped him so Catelyn won't hear too much.

Wait a minute. Rhaegar. Rhaegar Targaryen. Lyanna's lover.

_Gods._

Rhaegar looked irritated. 'What? It isn't if like she could hear us anyway. Lyanna, his condition is worsening, and-'

'Rhaegar Targaryen. Stop. She can hear us.'

'What? She's a kren? Why didn't you tell me?'

'You are the one that kept interrupting me.'

'Oh. Fine. But let's go to him first. We need to tell him. We need to tell someone!' Rhaegar was going into a panic attack. Catelyn couldn't blame him. If the child was one of her own, she would have abandoned all things that might slow her down and fly to Ned or someone that can help her.

Lyanna sighed. 'Rhaegar, he's dying. Accept it. There's no chance of saving him. Maybe it would be better if they gave him a painless death…'

This was so unlike the Lyanna she knew. The Lyanna she knew would have been in a whirlwind packing her things to go to King's Landing. She might be racing towards her son, whoever that is.

Catelyn started to piece things together.

_Her son must have been close to Ned…is dying…born during the war…_

Then it hit her.

Jon Snow.

* * *

**George**

'Come on, you can do it. Just breathe.' George told Rhaegal. 'In. Out. Right. Now stand it for a while when I clean your wounds…'

George was ready to drop, but he carried on, cleaning the dragons' wounds, applying ointment and comforting them every twelve hours. Resulting in no sleep for him.

He hoped that it was not too late for Drogon and Rhaegal. Drogon's condition was steadier, but Rhaegal was…

Dying.

Just like his chosen Targaryen, Rhaegal was dying.

Vision blurred, George climbed down from Rhaegal's back and checked on Drogon. It was then he noticed something peculiar.

Drogon's back had a cushion strapped to it, for the rider to sit in. Said cushion was faint red, like someone had spilled dye onto it then washed it away. But it didn't look like dye to George.

Moments later, he was charging into the pavilion, knocking aside one of Queen Daenerys' guards. Panting, he screeched to a halt right in front of Daenerys.

'What?' the young queen asked, bewildered by his haste.

George almost reddened at the question he was going to ask, but asked it anyway. 'Were you having your moon's blood when Jon was abducted?'

Daenerys turned so red that George managed to fully appreciate how tied she was to fire.

'No! Why?'

'Well, because…'

When Daenerys saw the cushion, she turned pale, greatly in contrast of the color her face had been before.

'This _is _blood,' she whispered, running her hand across her cushion. 'But not mine.'

All the color drained from George's face. 'It couldn't be Drogon, could it?'

Daenerys was still in some sort of trance, running her hand back and forth across the cushion. Then she said abruptly, in a monotone, 'Kill the dragons.'

'My lady?!'

'Kill the dragons.' She repeated.

George looked at her in horror, but the queen turned and left.

* * *

**The Sweet Lady**

She smiled, swirling the wine in her goblet. The boy was dead for sure.

_Ice and fire should never have mixed._

It was old magic, very, very old. The danger it brought the children that were the product frightened everyone, and even after the cure was discovered, they still died. The cure was dangerous, and only the child that was a perfect mix of both ice and fire can use it. And those were rare enough. Jon Snow would never pass the test, for one. And she had a back up. The Faceless Man she hired was ready to step in any time.

Why did she hate Jon Snow so much? Why did she see the need to kill him?

Simple.

She hated the Starks ever since they ripped her family apart. History never saw fit to include this oh-so-little thing, and her name was never known. Now that there was an easy way to break the Starks, so why not?

She hated the Targaryens too. Them and their dragons. They burned the remnants of her family fortune away so none of the Vitens will be able to survive. This boy may be their last hope. So why not?

She called for another goblet of wine. Stumbling drunkenly to her bed, she smiled.

Nobody messes with Avila Viten and get away with it.

**Exactly 2000 words!**

**For Veridissima. **


	7. I promise

**For shanshanreenee, Veridissima and SiouxFan. **

**Thanks for reviewing, guys!**

**Robb**

_I want to see father. I want to see Jon. I want to know what's going on!_

They had been shut up in Winterfell, and if word had arrived of them, Lady Catelyn stopped the word from reaching her children. Robb had recovered from the inflamation, and wanted nothing more than to get out and do something.

Each of the siblings did their part in trying to coax the truth out. Robb commanded her to tell them, but Lady Catelyn never yielded. Sansa used her charms, but mother didn't fall for it. Bran even ceased climbing for a while to get mother's approval, but Lady Catelyn only smiled, nothing more. Arya did her best in stitching, but mother wasn't fooled. Even baby Rickon had contributed, puffing up his chest and telling mother that they were ready for any kind of news. But Lady Catelyn still hardened her heart against all of her children.

So it came as a surprise when his lady mother asked all of them to be in her room this evening.

Robb was in a chair by the bed, Sansa on the bed; Bran perched on the window, Arya on the floor and Rickon in Sansa's lap.

All of them looked expectantly at their mother, who was standing in the middle of the room, which looked like it had just been ransacked.

'Well…' she started, not knowing how to begin. Finally, she settled on saying, 'Jon was captured by the king.'

That earned gasps from everyone, Robb included. Before they could badger her with questions, she continued, 'An attack was launched by the dragons, but they didn't get Jon and escaped with numerous wounds. Prince Joffrey, however, was killed.'

Sansa gasped. 'But he's my betrothed! Am I to be widowed before the marriage? Mother-'

'Shut up if you want to hear more.'

Sansa instantly became silent.

Catelyn then proceeded to tell them about Lyanna and Rhaegar, occasionally smiling at thin air. Robb started to think that their mother had lost her mind. Well, except for the part where Jon isn't a bastard but the product of a secret marriage between the blood of the dragons and the blood of the first men. It made sense in a queer way.

Maybe it makes sense just because it's the truth.

Then who's mom smiling at?

'You know, it is very rude to think that your mother is mad.' A voice startled him.

Robb swung his head wildly around, trying to see who had spoken, but no one was to be seen. He looked at his lady mother and saw her shaking with silent mirth.

Then a brush smacked him on the head.

'Arya!' he snapped, turning around.

'It wasn't me!' Arya yelled, being pelted by numerous soaps.

'Brandon Stark! Stop this insolence right now!' Robb yelled, before noticing that Bran was too busy shielding himself from necklaces to reply.

His lady mother was barely able to compose herself, laughing her head off. But finally she yelled something and everything stopped at once.

'What was that?' Robb asked, eyes wide.

'Do you believe me about the whole seeing-ghosts-thing now?'

'Maybe.' Robb admitted reluctantly.

'Now,' his lady mother said, a mischievous twinkle that Robb had never seen before on her in her eyes. 'Who's in for a ride to King's Landing?'

**Jon**

Groping blindly for the milk of the poppy, his hand accidentally scraped against the knife his godfather had given him for protection, just in case. Ignoring the blood, since he was in too much pain to pay it any heed anyway, he almost knocked over the glass of poppy milk.

Letting out a soft cry of pain, he brought the glass to his mouth and drank shakily. Falling back onto his pillows, he welcomed the sleep.

Things had gotten much worse for Jon over the past few days. His godfather (Ned) had paid him as much visits as he dared, but the fits were getting more frequent, about once every hour. Jon couldn't even get through one whole meeting with Ned without scrambling for the milk of the poppy.

It was worse when he was alone. The pain was worse and there was no one to hold the glass to his mouth. Instead he had to depend on his badly shaking fingers.

He was going to die soon, and Jon accepted it. But can't it be cleaner, or at least with his family by his bedside?

He missed Arya. He wanted hair to muss. He wanted someone to call little sister.

He missed Robb. He wanted someone to spur with (well, if he could manage it). He wanted someone to hold his hand while he screamed. Of course, the walls _had _to be soundproof. Jon was actually thankful for that. Or else he would have people yelling at him for waking the whole castle out every forty five minutes.

He missed Bran. He wanted someone to scare him to death by climbing all over rooftops. He wanted someone to make jokes to distract him.

He even missed Sansa. Her with her songs and her fantasies.

Most of all, he missed Winterfell. He wanted to be back among the grounds he knew, the godswood where he would sneak to every time he was burning with fever. He would kneel there until the next morning when Lord Eddard finally found him. He always chose a different place to hide, causing Ned more trouble in finding him.

It was of one such encounter that he dreamed of. In fact, it was the very first.

**Note: Jon was 9.**

_He was almost burning up with fever, and Lord Eddard was panicking. Jon did not understand why then, but he did now. It was only when the maester reassured him in low tones that this was a normal fever that Ned calmed down._

_It felt like he was lying in a bush, with leaves pricking him all over. He was hot, and wanted some air desperately. And he just couldn't fall asleep._

_So he slid out of the bed, legs wobbling slightly, but managed to make it all way downstairs without making a sound. He stepped out into the night and let the cool air wash over him, feeling more comfortable than he had been in bed._

_He ventured into the godswood, and, kneeling before the heart tree, began to pray. For himself, to find a place; for Arya, to grow up safely; for Bran, so that he will not fall one day; for Robb, to be a fine future Lord of Winterfell; for Sansa, to learn in a soft way that songs are not true…_

_He cannot say when he fell asleep on his knees._

'_Jon!' Ned yelled, moving through the trees._

_Jon jerked awake, painfully aware of the pain forming in his legs. Scrambling to his feet, he decided that he would hide somewhere until his father had passed by then sneak quietly back to his room. The fever was still there, but not as great as before and won't hinder him. He did not wish to face Eddard Stark right now. He was a bastard, and might get the whipping, fever or not._

'_Jon!' Ned yelled again, drawing closer. Jon looked around frantically for some place to hide. Finally, he decided that climbing a tree and hiding there would suffice. He would say a prayer for forgiveness later. But right now, his main priority was: hide._

_Wincing at the pull of his stiff leg muscles, Jon pulled himself up onto the first branch. Then the second. Then came the third. Then the fourth. Higher and higher he climbed, until he decided he was safe enough._

_Ned came right under the tree Jon was hiding, and stopped, looking at a footprint in the ground. Jon cursed himself. But even if he had known, there wouldn't be time anyway to hide it._

_CRACK!_

_The branch swayed. Jon clung on for dear life. He had never been fond of heights, but it had never exceeded to fearing them. Now, all of a sudden, Jon developed a fear of heights._

_The branch lurched downwards suddenly, and all Jon could do was not to scream. Tears flowing with fright, Jon decided that he would take Lord Eddard's wrath rather than scare himself to death._

_Inching backwards cautiously on the branch, Jon did his best not to look down._

_Don't look down. Don't look down._

_Then…_

_CRAAAAACK!_

_Jon did scream this time, and Ned looked up in alarm, just in time to fling himself out of the way as the branch crashed down. _

_Ned hurried over, and cleared away clumps of leaves to reveal a terrified boy that was sobbing uncontrollably. Lifting Jon gingerly up, Ned checked for injuries. Now, in addition to a peaking fever, the boy had a twisted ankle._

_Jon could barely feel the pain. All he felt was relief at being alive, and he let it all out through tears. _

_Patting Jon's back, Ned made his way back to the castle and the maester, guards trailing behind him._

'_That's the gods' punishment for you, Jon,' Ned had told him. 'Never go sneaking of in the night unless you want to scare me to death.'_

_Jon had looked at him in confusion and gratitude. 'But, I'm just a bastard.'_

_Ned looked like he had been slapped, then said carefully, caressing Jon's hair, 'You are more than just a bastard, Jon. I promise that you are. You will know one day.'_

'_Promise?'_

_Ned hesitated, for a fraction of a second. Finally, he said, 'I promise, Jon.'_

_**I promise, Lyanna.**_

A few rooms away, Ned awoke. His sister's words never haunted him anymore; it was his own words now, reminding him to protect his nephew.

**Arya**

She was really excited. Winterfell was a flurry of chaos.

Robb was still wearing his sulky face, since he had to stay behind as Lord of Winterfell. Sansa wasn't happy either, since mother insisted that at least two of them stay behind, in case misfortune should befall them. And unluckily for Sansa, she had been chosen, along with Robb.

The best horses were saddled, litters at the ready. Provisions were being prepared in the kitchens, and clean water being drawn from the well.

At long last, they were ready to leave.

They took along twenty bodyguards and a small portion of their swords. Arya hid the sword Jon had given her secretly before he left on the dragons under a pile of neatly folded clothes. It wasn't named yet, but Arya was sure that the sword would get its name in time.

She had thought of many names, and had never ceased through the journey.

_Whisper. _She thought on the first day, but decided it won't do.

_Rage. Snow. _She thought on the second day, but they weren't fit names for swords.

_Defender. _She had almost ran out of names when they reached King's Landing. But she still had not found a suitable one.

The guards blocked their way, but when Catelyn chided them ('Can't a lady wife visit her husband?') they let them pass.

The horses were lead to the stables, and soon they were sitting down to a feast.

Arya scanned the table for any familiar faces. Her lord father was there, looking tired but fine. But she still felt that something was amiss.

_Jon isn't here!_

She was sent into a whirlwind of panic. Did the king execute Jon while grieving for his son? Was Jon…_dead_?!

Catelyn noticed this as well.

'Compose yourselves. Don't let the king know we are here for Jon.' She whispered to her children, brows furrowed.

Rickon was on the verge of tears, but he gulped and nodded. Bran hugged Arya then said casually, 'So are we going to eat now?' like a perfect actor.

Arya, however, didn't feel like crying.

_Jon won't die. He promised._

She remembered it clearly.

_Father had left the room, along with Queen Daenerys, leaving her alone with Jon. Both of them just sat there, in their newly found knowledge._

_Arya just couldn't bear it. She wasn't his little sister. He wasn't her big brother. Jon was dying. Her world was falling apart._

'_Hey, little sister, you know that I have a present for you, right?'_

_Arya was beginning to tear up. 'I'm not your little sister.'_

'_You are,' Jon said. 'In my heart, you will always be that annoying little sister.'_

_Arya was sobbing now. 'But that heart will stop beating soon! And I don't want you to die!'_

_Jon pulled her into a hug. 'Shush, little sis.'_

'_Promise you won't die.' Arya said, voice muffled._

'_I promise.'_

_That was when he gave her the sword._

All of a sudden, Arya knew what to name her sword.

_Promise._

**115 more words than last chapter!**

**Do please review. I need feedback to keep going!**


	8. I miss you, Lyanna

**Daenerys**

'What do you mean that George is gone?' Dany yelled, fuming.

'Your Grace, we only discovered this when-'

'I don't give a damn about when you found out! I want to know where he went with the dragons!'

The servant girl took a step back, shocked. The queen was always soft-spoken, and she never talked like this to them. 'I-I have no idea, my queen. But dragons aren't common, and someone is sure to have-'

'Get out. I'm tired of your ravings.'

The girl blinked, bewildered. This was not the queen she knew and loved.

'Get out!' Dany yelled, irritated.

The girl retreated, frightened.

Dany huffed and fell back onto her pillows. Shaking her head, she wondered how she could have said such things. She was their mother, after all. Her temper had gotten short lately.

Her head pounding, Dany tried to recall the last time she had seen George.

The memories were hazy, as if they had been years ago instead of just last night.

'…_blood…'_

'…_is blood…'_

'…_kill the dragons.'_

Dany sat upright. She couldn't believe it. She had ordered her children to be killed?!

She buried her aching head in her hands. It all made sense to her now. Someone had jinxed her using the blood. George had taken the dragons away to escape from her. But Rhaegal and Drogon surely can't take the stress of such a long journey, and…

She had driven a desperate George into this. She had done this. She had condemned her own children. And they would just blame her. No one would understand her.

Not for the first time in her life, Daenerys Targaryen felt utterly alone. But this was the first time she wept truly and properly.

* * *

**The Sweet Lady**

Avila considered slaughtering the boy before he finished dying. Better to end the suffering more quickly. The Targaryens and Starks might even _thank _her for it. She would love that, them bowing and kissing her feet while she held a knife to the throat of Jon Snow.

There was one problem. The Faceless Man demanded more payment, and she was out of gold. There left no option but to do the deed herself. But maybe she won't mind it that much.

That was the reason she had hired a boat with what little gold she had left, and was making her way stealthily to the palace.

Creeping through the gates was easy enough. The dumb guards had fallen asleep and had not awakened even when she accidentally stepped on a twig.

The only hard part was getting into Jon's chamber unseen. She would have to clamber over rooftops and turrets before finally getting to that damned window.

Or maybe she could pose as a maid…?

Knocking a maid out, she changed quickly in the stables. After perfecting her disguise, she walked casually into the castle, lugging a bucket of water. She hoped that she would find the boy's chamber without having to ask and arouse suspicions.

'What are you doing?' a guard barked, but after she glared at him and gestured to the bucket of water threateningly, he backed off.

'Water for young Snow, I suppose,' he grumbled, moving away from the door.

Avila could hardly believe her luck. With a light nod of thanks towards the guard, and on the pretext of stumbling a little, made sure that the knife was safely concealed in her boots, she entered the room.

Her target was very vulnerable, lying on the bed unconscious or in sleep. Judging from his thinness and paleness, he won't put up much of a fight even if he was awake.

She put down the bucket and surveyed the boy intently. He was all Stark, yes, with just one tiny giveaway that he was a Targaryen.

_No one would have thought to look there._

Brushing away his hair, Avila quickly found what she was looking for. A birthmark in the shape of a raging fire. This was hard proof. All Targaryens have them, due to the inheritance of genes. Right under the birthmark was the pulse that beat weakly but steadily. Just one slice, and…

Then she heard voices. She smirked. Mayhaps she really would get to see them beg for his life that was held in her hands.

Jon stirred, and she held onto him tighter. She would not let him escape.

'…I told you to be quiet!'

'But, mother-'

'Do you want to see Jon or not?'

'…fine.'

'Arya, cheer up! We are going to see him soon, and then after all this is over, we can have fun!'

'But, I don't want to see him in this state.'

'How do you know? He may be already cured for all we know.'

'Quiet!'

Avila held her breath, waiting. The knife moved down to rest on an important spot that would make the boy die painfully and slowly. Mayhaps she would give them the pleasure of watching him die…

Making her decision, she sliced, bolted towards the door and shot out, almost bumping into the small party, hearing a gasp then pain filled screams filled the air.

Grinning, she lurched into another corridor, only to be caught by a guard by the arm.

'What's your business here, wench?'

'Let go of me!' she swung her knife and it created a deep gash in the guard's face. He yelled in surprise in pain, unintentionally letting go of her. Avila ran, cursing that guard who delayed her. The whole castle would probably be already up by now, making her escape harder. Again, what had she expected? She had already promised herself that her own life was worth giving for vengeance. But now, instinct for survival overtook her, and she found herself dashing towards freedom in speed she had never thought possible.

Tearing through the crowd that was slowly forming due to Jon's screams, she finally burst into the courtyard. And she still didn't stop. She tore on, until she was a good mile away from the castle.

Panting, she collapsed onto the tiles. It had all been worthwhile.

* * *

**Bran**

The murderer, whoever it was, was a fool. The slice was _just below Jon's pulse_. He could have killed him quickly by just moving his knife up a little. Instead that little mistake had given the maester enough time to take care of Jon.

Jon was now awake and safe from the Stranger for the time being, but he looked very weak.

'Hey, little sis. Hello, Bran. How's your sword fighting going, Rickon?' He smiled. 'Lady Catelyn.'

His lady mother sat down on the edge of Jon's bed. 'I know. They know.'

'How?'

'Uh…'

Jon took the hint. 'Never mind, then.'

Arya snuggled into Jon. Jon tried to lift his hand to muss her hair, but Bran noticed with alarm that no matter how hard Jon tried, he just couldn't muster enough strength _just to lift a hand_.

Catelyn noticed this with horror as well. Arya, head in Jon's chest, was waiting for the mussing that would never come.

'Jon must have been worn out by tonight's events. We will leave him to his rest and visit him tomorrow morning. Arya, Rickon, come. Bran, you may stay for a while, since _you _will not wear him out.' Catelyn threw a meaningful glance at Bran. Arya stalked out of the room, muttering curses and swearing under her breath.

Once he was sure that Arya was out of ear-shot, he turned to a devasted Jon.

'Bran-what's happening to me? I can't even lift a _hand_!' Jon laughed bitterly. Bran took Jon's hand-and was surprised by how light it was. If Jon couldn't lift _that_, something must be seriously wrong.

'Jon, when was the last time you lifted your hand?' Bran asked.

'I-I don't remember. All the days have been a haze. I only remember waking, gulping the milk of the poppy, sleep, then wake up again.'

'You used your hands to get the milk, right?'

'No.'

That surprised Bran. 'Then-'

'Someone gave it to me. I always supposed that it was father. I couldn't even see, you know. There's nothing but the pain and the sleep.'

Bran frowned. Ned had said that he was being closely watched and could only find a few chances to visit Jon.

Then who?

* * *

**Robert**

He had paid visits to Lyanna's son weekly, and lately it had turned daily.

At first he had to make sure that the boy was sleeping before creeping in-he had no intention of letting the boy know.

By his second visit, it wasn't even necessary. The boy was in a deep sleep most of the time, and Robert took his time admiring the features of Lyanna Stark on the boy.

By the third visit, the boy didn't even know Robert was there even when he was awake. The boy had been blind with pain, and Lyanna's eyes-Jon's eyes were glazed with pain, with none of their usual mischiefness. Robert had carefully lifted the cup to Jon's lips, and he drank it hungrily. It then struck Robert that Jon hadn't been eating the meals that had been sent to him. It lay abandoned on the table.

It was from that point on Robert's visits became daily.

He stayed in Jon's chamber for a long period of time, feeding him the milk of the poppy every hour or so. Robert was very careful, as if Jon was some fragile ornament. He bore witness to Jon's pain, the scars on his arm-courtesy of Jon's fingernails-were painful evidence.

'There, Lyanna, is that enough forgiveness for you?'

_It is. I'm sorry, Robert, but you know love._

Robert collapsed onto his bed, tears trickling down his face and into his beard.

_I miss you, Lyanna._

* * *

**George**

_Hurry, hurry, hurry!_

George didn't know how he had managed to get three dragons across the countryside in one night, but he had actually done it. But as he suspected that Dany would send people to get her dragons, and dragons weren't exactly easy to hide, he had only allowed the dragons a day's rest before getting them to work and bringing them away as far as possible.

To his surprise, the journey had actually made Rhaegal and Drogon get better, not worse. George supposed that it was only the fresh air that had cured them.

Now he was riding the skies joyfully towards an unknown island with only one worry nagging at him in the back of his mind.

Daenerys.

George had burned the blood-stained cushion, even checked all over Drogon for more. But he still wasn't sure whether Daenerys was back to normal. Until then, he had better take the dragons away as far as possible.

He squinted, and saw the island coming into full view. He whispered a few words to Viserion, and Viserion obliged by landing smoothly. The other dragons followed. George slid down from the dragon's back, peering around cautiously. It was still unknown whether the people of this island were friendly or not.

He ventured into the woods, getting berries to vanquish his hunger. They tasted nice, but also had a bitter taste in them. George wondered what kind of fruit they were.

It was getting late, and George decided to return to the dragons.

All of a sudden, he felt dizzy, and he couldn't stand. Falling to one knee, he clutched his head, panicking. Was he going to meet the same fate as Jon? But the pain wasn't great, and there was only dizziness.

Forcing himself to stand, George managed to stagger over to a very concerned Viserion before passing out.


	9. The Cure

**For SiouxFan, shanshanrenee, Veridissima, Aishanirocks, Supremus85 and WildDragon26221 for reviewing. Thanks for your support!**

**The Hunted Lady**

Avila huddled in a corner of a street, trying to remain hidden. The damned soldier just had to give a detailed description of her and now that thrice damned king had the whole kingdom looking for her.

The soldiers made one round, two rounds, three rounds, before leaving. Avila let out a breath.

Only to be seized by a soldier that had crept quietly to her right amidst all the chaos.

Avila tried to throw his hand off her, but he shouted for help and soon Avila was kicking and struggling in their grasp.

'Let-go-of-me!'

The soldier laughed. 'The little lady thinks she can command me. You damned me that day, little bird. Your disguise was a little too good for me.'

Avila could feel panic mounting as she recognized the man as the same guard that had guarded Jon's door when she murdered the boy. She forced herself to remain calm.

'I don't know what you're talking about.'

The soldier roared with laughter. 'You don't know? You will know soon enough…in the dungeons.'

With that, the soldier and the others pulled her to the castle, with Avila kicking and struggling all the way.

* * *

**The Lady in Mail**

Brienne was surprised to see that a boy, no more than one and twenty, had eaten the Rose Berries and survived. The berries were named for their nice appearance but deadly poison.

Brienne was even more surprised to see that the rumored dragons were currently burning a few trees in her backyard.

They were supposed to have launched an attack on Kings' Landing that day, then lying low in the east, or the north, but _not _Sapphire Isles.

She was dressing herself in mail when she heard the roar of a dragon. Brienne suspected that her hearing had messed up, but when the second roar came she decided that her sparring lessons could wait.

She had picked her way cautiously through the trees, hacking at the vines. She had arrived just in time to see the boy fall.

Brienne tended to the boy herself, sparring lessons forgotten. Still, it was amazing that this boy still managed to survive and be in a stable condition now.

Brienne hacked at the straw dummy, cutting it in half with one strike, earning her praise from her trainer. However, her thoughts were far away in the corner chamber of the castle…

* * *

**Eddard**

Ned paced up and down in front of the cell.

'Can you just stop it?' Avila asked, irritated.

'No.' Ned said, and then resumed his pacing. He had hoped that the girl will know something about the cure, and the king apparently had a knack for overhearing things, because the next day lordships and dragons were offered for the girl alive. But then she had refused to say anything concerning the cure ever since her arrival in the cheery dungeons. They had planned to try torture, but decided against it. The girl could be their only way of saving Jon. So Ned settled on irritating her instead.

But the girl would not speak. She only spoke when demanding something, but never gave any information.

Sighing, Ned left. He felt helpless. Vital information was right in front of them, and they had no way of obtaining it.

* * *

**Arya**

Arya wanted to cry. Her big brother, the one who loved to muss her hair, lift her onto his lap, sometimes even starting fights for her, barely had enough strength to talk.

'Little sis…'his voice was barely a whisper.

Arya swallowed a sob. 'Don't die while I'm gone. I'm going to help dad wrest the truth out of her. Don't die. Promise.'

'Promise.'

Arya slipped her hand out of Jon's burning one and dashed down the stairs, sobs blinding her.

_I will make him better, _she told herself fiercely. _I'm going to beat the truth out of her if I have to._

Jon Snow will _not _die.

* * *

**The Lady in the Cell**

No one could imagine her surprise when Arya Stark flung herself into the cell and clung onto Avila.

'Please,' she sobbed. 'Pl-please.'

It dawned onto Avila what she was here for. Avila tried desperately to harden her heart, but then she remembered her own sister, clinging to her sobbing on the Burning Day, as she called it.

'_I don't wanna die!' Laila wailed, clinging to Avila, guards trying to drag her away. Avila fought to maintain a hard grip on her little sister, kicking and biting at the guards, desperately trying to protect her sister._

'_Hush, Laila,' Lady Viten said, already bound to the stake, face sorrowful. 'It will be over in the blink of an eye.'_

_Laila only wailed louder and pressed her face into her sister's skirt._

_All of a sudden Laila seemed to break. Dashing into the sea of guards, she caused a commotion big enough to draw most of the guards away from the only Viten left abound aside from herself._

'_Aliva, nur!' Laila yelled. It was an old game of them to say the letters in words from left to right, but now it meant life and death._

_Swallowing a sob, Avila took a last look back at her sister. Her father nodded slightly._

_Avila gathered up her skirts and ran, the guards only noticing when Laila was subdued. They shouted for someone to get her, but she was far away by then._

_Looking back, Avila saw the smoke rising. She could still hear Laila's screams in her mind._

_Crouching under a tree, she vowed to get revenge for her family on her tears._

But turning back to the present, how could she refuse this little girl?

_Especially one who looks so much like Laila._

Taking a deep breath, Avila whispered to the wide-eyed girl all she knew.

* * *

**Jon**

Every little movement sent jolts of pain along his body. Jon couldn't even scream. Most of his strength had been ripped away from him as well. Just breathing felt like lifting a _very _heavy pail of water.

Jon could feel his grip on life starting to slip. He clung onto it desperately, but it was more like trying to hold sand in your hands. The more you try to hold on, the more it goes.

He heard discussions, snatches of conversations like: 'Stark blood,', 'Targaryen blood,', and 'Dany.'

His mind tried to piece it together, but it just couldn't. He did remember some things, however.

All of a sudden his body had started burning like mad last week. The milk of the poppy didn't help anymore. Dreamwine wasn't any better.

Every moment of life felt like pure torture. And yet he still clung on.

_For my family._

* * *

**Okay, because I don't have any idea how to write it, I'm just telling you all straight out. George is staying on the Sapphire Isles till old age with Brienne, and won't come out again unless I feel the need for him to. Poor George is made just because a dragon needed three heads.**

* * *

**Daenerys**

She sailed west as fast as possible, wanting to get the cure to Jon as fast as possible.

_Blood of a Stark. Blood of a Targaryen. Three drops precisely. Mix them together. When the mixture is fully blended, burn it. Then take a torch and light it with the same fire. Burn the boy with it._

Dany couldn't believe her eyes at first. Burn him? Won't that only make matters worse?

But blood had deep magic that was not to be underestimated, and Dany went anyway.

Bursting into the palace, she skidded to a stop. It was _massive_. Dany felt belittled by it.

It was then she realized that she had completely no idea where to go.

'What is she doing here?' a voice barked. Dany spun to see a guard towering over her. The guard grabbed her wrist.

'Ser, I meant no harm, just-'

'No harm?' the guard roared with laughter. 'The last wench who claimed to be harmless nearly killed Jon Snow.'

Another guard scrutinized Dany. 'She looks pretty. Might make a lot of money.'

Dany felt goose pimples pricking up. 'Unhand me!'

'I think not.'

Dany was starting to despair when her most unlikely savior came.

'Let her go.'

The guards immediately let go of Dany. 'Your Grace.'

Robert Baratheon looked sad, pale and tired, which was not what Dany expected the Usurper to look like. 'Send her to Jon Snow's chambers. And see that no one treats her badly, or I'll have your heads.'

The guards gulped.

Dany turned to leave when the king called out, 'Daenerys?'

She turned.

'I'm sorry about the spell. I wasn't clear in the head and-well, I have to admit that I was jealous of Rhaegar and hated House Targaryen. Blood magic took its toll on me as well. Remind me never to do it again.' He smiled ruefully. 'I'm trying to make amends now, so don't tempt me into killing you.'

Dany stared in astonishment for a moment. Finally, gracing the king with a small smile, she turned and left.

The guards ushered Dany to Jon's room with all the respect they could offer. Dany smirked inwardly. Where was their respect five minutes before?

When they reached Jon's chamber, the guards bowed low enough for their heads to touch the floor while ushering her in making Dany almost burst out laughing. Instead, she composed herself and managed a stiff nod at both of them before entering.

Any ounce of cheerfulness in her disappeared when she entered. There were only two people in the room, and the state of one of them made Dany suck in her breath.

Dany didn't want to believe it. The boy who had almost wasted away to nothing on the bed wasn't Jon Snow. True, she had only known him a few days, but it just doesn't fit. Daring, cheerful Jon Snow isn't the boy they said he was now.

'Queen Daenerys.' Ned rose from his position beside the bed. He looked thinner and paler. Mayhaps it was because of Jon.

'Lord Stark. Formal as ever, I see.' Dany managed a smile.

'The deed must be done quickly.' Ned told her. 'Jon doesn't have enough time.'

Taking a look at one another, Ned took out the cup and his dagger. Dany took out her own dagger.

With one deft slice, they cut their finger open together and held it above the cup.

One drop…two drops…three drops.

They quickly withdrew their hands, and Ned took out a spoon and proceeded to stir it. Dany noticed that Ned's blood was darker than hers.

With an agonizing slowness, the mixture finally blended. Ned poured it into the brazier. The flames crackled.

Dany fetched the torch and lit it with the flames from the brazier.

Now came the hard part.

Dany cursed herself for even wanting to do such a thing, but there was no choice. Slowly, she put the torch to the boy's skin, telling herself not to look at the Lord of Winterfell. She might just start crying if she saw his expression.

Jon screamed, even though he was supposed to be in an unconscious state. Dany flinched, but did not remove the torch. She cursed herself madly, and Jon screamed on.

Dany had told herself not to cry, but she did. Ned was crying too, as he held Jon down and did his best to speak in soothing tones to the boy, Jon quietened down a bit at the sound of his voice, but as soon as Dany tried to burn him again, Jon began screaming and struggling again.

After five long minutes that felt like hours, Jon let out one last drawn out scream before falling limp onto the bed.

Unsure of the next step, Dany looked at Ned.

That was when the light erupted from Jon's body.

**Sorry…just felt like a good place to end. Besides, I needed to change point of views between two characters in the same place without feeling awkward.**


	10. Little Brother

**Eddard**

The light was bright, but surprisingly it wasn't blinding. The light enveloped Jon's body immediately, and Dany was ejected out of it, along with himself.

The shape of a dragon and a wolf gradually appeared in the light. Ned stared at them open mouthed. He had not expected something like this. It was a magical moment.

The dragon spoke. Its voice was haunting and it echoed strangely. 'Jon Snow shall be no more.'

Then the wolf spoke in the same haunting voice as the dragon. 'And Jon Targaryen shall rise in his stead.'

Then they spoke together. 'History shall rewrite itself, justice held, right restored!'

They dived at each other, and seemed to melt together. For a moment Ned thought he had seen Rhaegar grinning in place of the dragon and Lyanna laughing in place of the wolf.

Then the light blinded him.

When he opened his eyes again, the light was gone and Jon looked the same as before, pale and weak. Ned wasn't sure whether it was just a hallucination or not.

Then Jon's eyes snapped open.

**Catelyn**

Rhaegar and Lyanna had disappeared two hours ago, and had not appeared since. Catelyn couldn't help but feel that it would be the last time she ever saw them again.

_Don't worry about us, _Lyanna had said, smiling. _If you don't see us again, it is very likely that we don't have to worry for Jon anymore and have passed on. See you, Cat._

Rhaegar had smiled at her. _I can't ever thank you enough for not chasing our child away. See you, Catelyn, and beware of my wife._

Catelyn had grinned at that. The two ghosts waved and left. And they had not been seen since.

Catelyn did her best not to worry. After all, it could mean that Jon was out of danger and they passed on.

_And it could be that some old magic had killed all of them._

Catelyn knew that her worries were pointless. After all, who had heard of old magic killing people? Or ghosts, in their case. That time is past. But again, many unexpected things had happened in the past few moons.

Agonizing moments passed, Catelyn waiting outside the door anxiously. She sent Bran, Rickon and Arya to bed, telling them not to worry. Bran and Rickon had listened, but Arya went after much stomping of feet.

Then the door finally opened, and Ned came out with Queen Daenerys, looking tired.

'He's fine,' Ned said, as if in a daze. 'Jon survived.'

Catelyn gently guided him back to her bed, and he collapsed immediately on it. But, although he seemed tired physically, he didn't seem to be tired mentally at all. He told her what happened in the room, but when he came to the part where Jon woke up, he faltered. Tears formed in his eyes, which puzzled Catelyn. Shouldn't he be celebrating?

'You will see for yourself tomorrow.' He finally said.

The next day, Catelyn, driven by curiosity, went up to Jon's chamber. She supposed that Arya was already inside, because Catelyn didn't see her in other places. Of course, Catelyn didn't look in the streets.

She knocked, and pushed the door open.

Sure enough, Arya was there, along with Bran. Bran and Arya were gaping at Jon, who was laughing and mussing up Arya's hair. Catelyn had never liked it, but at this moment she found Arya quite adorable with messed up hair.

'How are you?' Catelyn asked. She never knew how to begin conversations with this boy.

'Only a slight fever. Father just keeps fussing over me. He needed five maesters to convince him that it's really normal.' Jon never lifted his head while talking to her. Catelyn felt a twinge of guilt.

'Jon, you know you can look at me. You are now a prince, and the blood of the dragons. It is I that should fear you.'

Jon lifted his head, and Catelyn looked into his eyes. Catelyn gasped.

Violet eyes. Just like Rhaegar's.

'Still takes some getting used to.' Jon said with a small smile.

So that was the reason Arya and Bran were gaping. And the reason Ned faltered in his explanation last night. And the reason Jon didn't look straight at her.

Of course, it isn't something bad, but it's unique. Violet eyes are only seen on Targaryens. If word of Jon's parentage escaped, with the help of his eyes, he would be hunted by Targaryen enemies or get pestered to win the Iron Throne. Catelyn knew perfectly well that he wanted neither.

'They're nice. Suits you.' Catelyn said softly. No wonder Ned was sad last night. He would never get to see Lyanna's eyes ever again. Because they had been replaced with those of the Dragon Prince's.

**Robb**

Robb was getting bored. He wondered how father managed to do this almost every day. Robb was about to doze off when Maester Luwin came in.

'My lord, there has been a bird from King's Landing, from your mother. They will be arriving at Winterfell in a week.'

'What of Jon?' Robb asked, worried for his cousin.

'Jon Snow will be coming too, but there has been no further mention of his current condition.'

_At least he's still alive._

'Prepare Winterfell for a welcome home feast. See that their chambers are cleaned too.' Robb instructed his men. Finally, something exciting to look forward to.

The week passed, yes, but slowly. Robb felt that he might die of boredom before they arrived.

Then they arrived.

To Robb's surprise, there wasn't a litter for Jon. Only riders. Father rode at the head of the group, mother at his side. Behind them was Arya, Rickon holding on to her waist. Bran was riding beside Arya. There was a hooded stranger between them, and guards flanked each of them. Robb wondered where Jon was, and who the hooded man is.

Father hummed with approval when he saw Winterfell. 'You have done a good job during my absence, son.' Mother looked proud. Arya grinned at Robb, while Sansa showered him with courtesies. Rickon hugged him. Bran smiled at him.

Then came the feast. Robb was even more confused by then. Father requested that the hooded stranger eat in Jon's chamber, and no one should disturb him. Robb shot him a questioning glance, but father told him that all will be explained after the feast, out of public.

Robb was really _very _bored. It hadn't turned out as exciting as he thought it would. He considered sneaking to the chamber, but decided against it. Father's wrath was not to be toyed with.

The feast was finally over. Father dragged him and Sansa aside and said, 'Now, don't you go spreading rumors of what I'm going to show you. Come with me, and make sure nobody follows you.'

Robb wondered what all this secrecy was for. Could it be in any way connected to Jon?

Father pushed open the door, and they entered. The stranger's back was to them.

'Jon,' father called out.

_Jon? Then why does it have to be secret? Or is it just another Jon? Is Jon disfigured? _

Jon turned, and Robb found himself staring into violet eyes.

'Jon…' Robb felt his breath catch in his throat. 'Your eyes…'

Jon laughed quietly. 'Don't mind them.'

_At least the laughter is still the same._

'Right, don't let anyone else know about my eyes, okay?'

'Why? Then don't you have to wear a hood all the time?'

Ned explained patiently to Robb about assassins out to kill the remaining Targaryens, houses that want a Targaryen to sit the Iron Throne, et cetera.

Jon grinned at him. Robb felt a pang deep down. The Jon he knew was still there, even the way of grinning and laughing. And yet this was not the Jon Snow he knew well and played with since youth. This was Jon Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne. His cousin, not his brother.

As if Jon could sense his thoughts, he said, 'Dad here agreed to take me as his godson, so you are still my brother, Robb. Don't pull such a sour face.'

That was when Robb realized that his emotions had been showing. Composing himself hastily, he said, 'Feel like sparring, Snow?'

'No!' father said sharply. 'He is still recovering from the after effects from you-know-what, and still has a slight fever. I will not allow it.'

Jon raised an eyebrow at Robb. Robb tried and failed to hide a snicker.

Father shook his head sternly. 'Boys.' He muttered before leaving.

Jon looked at Robb with those unnerving violet eyes. Robb felt another pang in his heart. Their brotherly love will never be the same again.

'Robb,' Jon said quietly. 'I know that you may not still want me as your brother anymore, but we still can be friends.'

Robb stared at Jon incredously.

'_Are you kidding? _After all we had done together? I won't change, even though you have. And you are still the same old Jon, just that Snow is now Targaryen. Your name is still Jon. Your features are still Stark, except for your eyes. And you will always remain an annoying…' Robb pulled Jon into a hug. '…little brother.'

**The end. Hope that you liked it.**

**There will be one shots based on this story, but I don't think that I will be posting any more chapters.**

**Okay, next is just to tell you what happened to other characters.**

**Robert**

He still missed Lyanna, but he had learned to get over it. Thanks to a boy called Jon Snow.

Avila Viten got a position of her own on the court, which aroused mutterings and Cersei's rage, but in the end Jaime sorted it all out.

As for George Greenwood, he stayed on Sapphire Isles and out of sight, which was good enough for him.

Daenerys was also given a high position at court as the Hand of the King, after she told him that she had lost all intention of getting the Iron Throne. She could still sit it sometimes, of course, as the Hand.

The dragons were still out there, doing who-knows-what.

It seemed like the end.


End file.
